


525,600

by mysterywoozi (writers_haven)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, also i'm sorry i did little to no research about medieval times, background soonhoon!, bc i'm soonhoon trash as we all know, but also political marriage, omega!Junhui, omega!jihoon, please just assume i've stolen the aesthetic and nothing else, since this idea first came out on twt i've dubbed it 'duty husbands', so that's what this fic is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writers_haven/pseuds/mysterywoozi
Summary: “Father, not again,” Jihoon is scoffing, as he does every year.“Yes, Jihoon,again,” Father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’ve had this argument four years in a row now. Junhui is fairly sure that even Jihoon’s eventual coronation won’t put an end to it; Junhui will be hearing this argument until one of them dies. “We’ve been over this, the Games are tradition–”“Times are changing! I will not be given away like a trophy to the strongest caveman of an alpha to show up–”“For god’s sake, Jihoon, nobody’s forcing you to get married, I would never–”“Then why are we holding the Games? Why not just call it a regular tournament? Why parade us around like prized peacocks?”(Junhui buries his nose in his book, trying desperately to seem like he hasn’t been listening.)orPrince Junhui doesn't know it, but this year's Alpha Games are going to change his life.





	525,600

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING: this chapter includes references to sexual harassment. please proceed with caution.**

It’s that time of year again. The cool breezes of autumn have given way to a sharp nip that promises a frosty winter. Numbers from this year’s harvest are coming through; they’ve had a good year, much-needed after the drought the year before. All across the kingdom, feasts and festivals are being thrown in celebration. Winter is coming, a period of well-deserved rest after three seasons’ worth of labour in the fields.

And, of course, with winter comes the Alpha Games.

“Father, not again,” Jihoon is scoffing, as he does every year.

“Yes, Jihoon, _again_ ,” Father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’ve had this argument four years in a row now. Junhui is fairly sure that even Jihoon’s eventual coronation won’t put an end to it; Junhui will be hearing this argument until one of them dies. “We’ve been over this, the Games are tradition _–_ ”

“Times are changing! I will not be given away like a trophy to the strongest caveman of an alpha to show up–”

“For god’s sake, Jihoon, nobody’s forcing you to get married, I would never–”

“Then why are we holding the Games? Why not just call it a regular tournament? Why parade us around like prized peacocks?”

“Just because there are certain formalities that you and your brother have to adhere to–”

“ _Formalities_! Father, surely you jest–”

“I fail to see how a few dances are such a _burden_ –”

“In case you’ve forgotten, father, those dances had me groped by no less than three alphas–”

Junhui buries his nose in his book, trying desperately to seem like he hasn’t been listening. His father and brother keep trying to get him to pick a side, and Junhui has spent the last four years staying firmly on the fence. Jihoon has a point, Junhui hates that the alphas at the Games eye him like a hunk of meat, but it’s not like he actually has to choose a mate at the end, so Junhui doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Junhui is a prince. There are duties that attach to that title, like attending history lessons or having to wear those ridiculous feathered hats at official functions. Father hates those hats too, but he still puts them on. It’s part and parcel of being royal.

Not that anything like that’s going to stop Jihoon. He has strong opinions, revolutionary opinions, and he doesn’t care if it’s against tradition. He’s going to be the first omega king this kingdom has ever seen, and he’s going to be a damn good one.

Not for the first time, Junhui envies his courage.

“Um,” Junhui tries, voice meek. Both Father and Jihoon turn to him, eyes still burning with the same bright stubbornness that keeps them arguing about this, year after year. Junhui lowers his gaze in a gesture of submission. He hates when they fight, and he hates getting in the middle of fights even more.

“Junhui-ya, speak freely,” Father says, sounding a little softer. Some of the tension in Junhui’s shoulders relaxes at that, and Junhui timidly meets his eyes.

“Um,” he says. “It’s just– I think I saw some of the competitors arriving. Maybe you guys could– pick this up later?”

Jihoon and Father share a resigned glance. They may be in the middle of a fight, but they both know the importance of presenting a united front, especially in front of the power-hungry nobility.

“Very well,” Father says, standing and smoothing down his tunic. “Shall we adjourn to greet our guests?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Jihoon promises, dark determination steely-hard in his voice, but falls into step with Junhui behind Father as they leave the room.

Junhui sighs with relief. Crisis averted.

Now all he has to do is make sure he isn’t in the room when they decide to pick it back up.

\---

The greeting in the throne room is a small affair. Father gives a short speech welcoming the alpha participants and their entourages, after which the participants step forward and briefly introduce themselves. Junhui counts ten participants, and recognises eight from previous years. The three who’d tried to feel Jihoon up and had wine ‘accidentally’ spilled on their pristine white doublets for their efforts are, surprisingly, still in attendance. You’d think they’d get tired of this after being rejected, year after year.

Then again, it’s possible that their families are forcing them to come. Marrying a prince puts their family in line for the throne, no matter how distant; it’s not surprising that a few of the lesser nobility are regulars at the Games.

Junhui is careful to keep his expression neutral throughout introductions. He doesn’t want to offend anyone, but he doesn’t want to show favour, either. The two new faces are interesting, in different ways. The first belongs to the Song family, a fairly influential family in the northwest of the kingdom. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with an athletic build that suggests strength and experience on the battlefield. He winks at Junhui with a smug, confident grin that makes Junhui want to flinch away. Somehow, Junhui manages a poker-faced nod. He hopes it’s the right balance of distant and polite.

The second new alpha is also fairly tall, but his build is long and lean, much like Junhui’s own. He bows deeply, respectful, and he doesn’t make eye contact with any of them as he introduces himself in a low, quiet voice. He is the son of Lord Kim Myung-soo, who controls a modest parcel of land right along the border with the Eastern Kingdom. He keeps his eyes lowered even after he steps back into line with the other alphas, careful to show submission to both Junhui and Jihoon. It’s proper, considering they’re princes, but after years of flirty winks and suggestive eyebrows, Junhui can’t help but appreciate the few alphas who observe proper etiquette.

The young Lord Kim is the last to introduce himself, so Father dismisses their guests to freshen up and prepare for the welcome feast tonight. Lord Kim is respectful even as he excuses himself, doesn’t try to steal glances at Jihoon or Junhui to see if he’s caught their favour like many of the other alphas do.

“What do you know, maybe I won’t have to spill wine on all the alphas tonight,” Jihoon murmurs in Junhui’s ear, and Junhui can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of him. All the alpha participants must notice; some of them start to preen.

“Oh no,” Junhui whines, shoving gently at Jihoon. “Now they’re all gonna think we like them.”

“Just kick ‘em in the balls until they get the picture, always works for me.”

“Jihoon!”

Father looks pained. “If you commit bodily assault, there better be a damn good reason for it! And– try not to do lasting damage, please?”

Jihoon grins wickedly. “No guarantees, father.”

\---

Junhui and Jihoon are obliged to have at least one dance with each of the Games participants at the welcome feast. Depending on the participant, this can be fairly pleasant… or extremely uncomfortable.

“Nobody better try to grope me this time,” Jihoon’s spitting, expression dark. “Hyung, you have to tell someone if it happens to you! At least let me kick them in the balls if you don’t want to.”

“Please don’t kick anyone in the balls,” Junhui begs. “I don’t want to turn the nobles against us by causing a big fuss, you know they won’t take kindly to us accusing their heirs of sexual harassment–”

“Their heirs shouldn’t be sexually harassing us, then!” Jihoon bursts, thankfully in a hiss quiet enough that only the servants behind them cough to disguise their laughter. “Just– promise me you’ll at least tell them to stop?”

“I will, I will. Though after the wine thing last year, I doubt they’ll try again.”

“You never know,” Jihoon says darkly. He opens his mouth to say something else, but an alpha participant approaches them, her green silk doublet shimmering gently in the candlelight. Lady Park, Junhui remembers, both from the introductions earlier and previous years.

“Your Highnesses,” she greets with a bow, then extends a hand to Junhui. “Might I have this dance, Prince Junhui?”

Junhui schools his expression into a polite smile. “Yes, Your Grace. Excuse me, brother.”

Lady Park is a decent dancer and a pleasant conversationalist. Her touch is steady and respectful, and doesn’t stray from Junhui’s waist. It’s a relief– Junhui cannot afford to offend her, not when her family controls the main port for the kingdom’s trade by sea. They speak about the harvest and how to deal with the sudden rise in piracy at the ports. Junhui gets the impression she’s here to network more than to gain a mate. She knows what she’s talking about, and she’s easy to talk to. Junhui decides he likes her, and promises to introduce her to his father later in the night.

Lord Jung is the next to approach Junhui, once Lady Park has bowed and excused herself. Junhui keeps his polite mask on, but he’s on guard; Lord Jung is at least ten years older than Junhui, and every year he seems to get more desperate to find a mate. He’s nice enough, Junhui supposes, but he always sort of comes across as desperately trying to impress Junhui with everything he says. He brags about his wealth and power and land, and when that doesn’t work he goes for self-deprecating instead, saying, “I know you must have handsome young alphas courting you left and right, you’re probably disgusted that a loser like me is even talking to you…” Which. He knows it’s probably just a tactic to make Junhui sympathise with him, but Junhui can’t help but feel guilty anyway and ends up assuring Lord Jung he’s not as bad as he’s making himself out to be. Lord Jung is reassured and happy at the end of the dance, bowing with a flourish, but Junhui’s polite smile in return is strained.

Junhui knows it’s rude, but the next few alphas honestly sort of blur together. They’re all haughty and smug, smirking like it’s inevitable that Junhui will fall for them. They’re textbook obnoxious alphas, the kind who think that omegas are nothing more than baby-makers, that Jihoon’s claim to the throne is solely because their Father never had an alpha child. One tells Junhui that she has omegas throwing themselves at her back home, but she rejected them all for him. Another tries to persuade Junhui that he should choose a mate so he won’t ever have to make decisions for himself and risk overexerting his poor omegan brain. The worst is probably Lady Kang, who tells him that he’s the good one, the gentle and sweet and pretty one, but his love for his headstrong non-conforming brother has contaminated Junhui’s pure omegan sensibilities and tricked him into thinking omegas should want more than a happy family and a warm den. Junhui nearly throws up on her, because he can tell she really, actually believes what she’s saying, and it comes so close to treason that he can’t believe she said it to his face.

Then again, maybe she’s saying it because Junhui’s the _pretty_ one.

“I’m– excuse me,” Junhui manages, somehow prying himself away from her arms.

Lady Song doesn’t show any sign of alarm. In fact, her voice is smug when he hears her stage-whisper to a nearby beta, “Omegas and their weak constitutions! My pheromones must have been too overwhelming for the poor thing…”

Junhui makes a beeline for the side of the room. He’s hoping he’ll somehow be able to blend into the bouquets of flowers the servants have neatly arranged along the wall; it hasn’t worked in the six years he’s been attending the Games, but seven’s supposed to be a lucky number, isn’t it?

It isn’t. Junhui is immediately approached by the tall, broad-shouldered newcomer. Lord Song, Junhui remembers from earlier. “Your Highness,” Lord Song says, bowing with a flourish. “Ah, as I suspected: the flowers that line this hall draw the eye with their resplendence, but none of them hold a candle to your radiance and beauty.”

“Oh,” says Junhui awkwardly. “Um, thanks?”

Lord Song extends an outstretched hand, still bowed low. “Might I have the sublime honour of dancing with you, my prince?”

Oh god, is this how he always speaks? “Yes, alright,” squeaks Junhui, taking his hand hesitantly. Lord Song kisses it. It’s longer than any hand kiss really has any right to be, and it’s very wet. Junhui tries very hard not to make a bewildered face.

“I hear Your Highness is a fan of music and dancing,” Lord Song says as he whirls Junhui out onto the dance floor. “It is really the most fortuitous happenstance, I happen to be bosom friends with the owner of a troupe of the most amazing performers…”

If there’s one thing Junhui learns about Lord Song, it’s that he _never stops talking_. All throughout their dance, he chatters on and on about all sorts of things– his lands, his horses, his supposedly massive estate. Junhui mostly just smiles politely and hopes he isn’t quizzed on this later, because he checked out two songs ago.

Yes. Two songs ago. Because Lord Song apparently doesn’t know that the participants are only supposed to get _one_ dance with each omega prince, and has been clutching Junhui’s waist for three songs now. “Perhaps we should stop,” Junhui’s tried to suggest several times now, but Lord Song just replies with a hasty, “Yes, yes, just until the end of the song, if you don’t mind, Your Highness – we’ve got a bit of a rhythm going now, haven’t we–” and conveniently doesn’t notice when the song does end.

It takes someone else clearing their throat and tapping on Lord Song’s shoulder for him to _stop talking_ for longer than two seconds. “Excuse me,” says a smooth, low voice of the other new alpha. The quiet, respectful one; Lord Kim, Junhui remembers. “Might I cut in?”

Lord Song splutters. “How positively rude of you to cut in when the lovely omega and I are having such a lovely frolic! My good man, I must insist you allow us to bask in one another’s presence until the end of the song, at the very least–”

As if on cue, the musicians play a long, very final-sounding chord. The crowd applauds politely. It is, clearly, the end of a song.

Lord Kim raises his eyebrows at Lord Song, who is, for the first time all night, speechless.

“Thank you, my lord, lovely to meet you,” Junhui says hurriedly, squirming out of Lord Song’s grasp and inching towards Lord Kim with as much grace as he can muster. “Lord Kim, shall we?”

Junhui basically grabs Lord Kim by the hand and leads them as far across the dancefloor as he can manage before the music properly starts up again. Lord Kim, thankfully, doesn’t ask questions, just presses a gentle but steady hand to the small of Junhui’s back and takes Junhui’s hand with the other. They dance in silence for a little bit, getting used to each other’s movements. Junhui, personally, is relishing some quiet time after Lord Song.

“My apologies, Your Highness, if I was interrupting,” Lord Kim says eventually. His voice is quiet but conversational, if not quite friendly.

“No, not at all,” Junhui assures him. Honestly, as far as Junhui’s concerned, Lord Kim saved him; Junhui almost wants to thank him for it. It’s a very inappropriate thing to say, though, so Junhui puts on his polite smile and asks, “So, Lord Kim, you’re from the east, aren’t you? I’m sorry to hear about what happened to your grain.”

“Yes, it’s a terrible shame,” Lord Kim says. He seems a little more somber than before. Or is it Junhui’s imagination? Lord Kim seems to have quite the poker face. “We got lucky. The disease hit the Eastern Kingdom a lot harder than us. Even so, I worry our stocks will not last the winter.”

“Well, you have us behind you,” Junhui promises. He hasn’t heard Father say as much, but he’s sure Father would agree. “The harvest numbers are still coming in, but as far as I’ve seen, the rest of the kingdom is doing more than well enough to help you through to spring. Your people will not starve, not as long as I have anything to say about it.”

Lord Kim bows his head, as much as he can while they’re dancing. “You have my thanks, Your Highness. Not all royals treasure their subjects so; you are as kind as the rumours say.”

Junhui flushes. “Ah, no, not at all,” he says, embarrassed. “Please don’t thank me. It is my duty to treasure my kingdom.”

“A duty you fulfil admirably,” Lord Kim says, then pauses. His words are careful, measured, when he speaks again. “Your Highness, there is a matter… I tread lightly here, as I speak, but…”

Junhui’s curiosity is piqued. “Yes?”

Lord Kim hesitates. “As you know, my land borders that of the Eastern Kingdom. I… am aware that our kingdom and theirs is not on the best of terms at the moment.”

Ah, so it’s come out. Father and Jihoon have been in talks with the Eastern King for months now. There’s been an alliance between their kingdoms going back for decades, but in recent years the relationship has seen a decline, and nobody’s really sure why. Or, well, Jihoon thinks it’s because Father is a stubborn old man who doesn’t always admit when he’s wrong, and so is the Eastern King. Neither of the princes are privy to those meetings, so Junhui can’t really say, but knowing Father, it might not be far from the truth. Still, he’d thought at least they’d concealed the severity of those talks from the public. Seems the rumour mill is too strong for anyone to evade forever. Or perhaps the Eastern Kingdom wasn’t being as tight-lipped as they were.

“I’m afraid I cannot speak on matters of state with you,” Junhui tells Lord Kim, because he doesn’t want to fan the flames, but he also doesn’t want to lie. “Perhaps I can arrange a meeting with my father–”

“No,” Lord Kim blurts out, then quickly bows his head. “My apologies for speaking out of turn, Your Highness, I forgot myself. I only meant– I have a message. From the Eastern Kingdom.”

“A message?”

“Yes– but I was told it was for your ears only.”

Junhui’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “ _My_ ears only?” he repeats, aghast. “ _Why_?” Why Junhui? Jihoon’s the important prince, the Crown Prince. Junhui’s just– the pretty one.

“I wasn’t told, Your Highness,” Lord Kim says lowly. “But– I was told that it might prevent a war.”

War! Their kingdom’s been at peace for over a twenty years, surely the situation with the Eastern Kingdom wasn’t quite as bad as that.

Or, well.

Junhui thinks of Father when he comes out of those meetings, haggard and exhausted, sometimes even fuming mad. Lately, he seems to be getting mad more often than not. Junhui bites his lip, worried.

“Alright,” he says quietly. “What’s the message?”

Lord Kim glances around. “Not here, too many people. Could we speak anywhere more private?”

Junhui freezes. Suddenly, this is sounding very dangerous. Sneak away from a party to meet an unmated alpha in private and Junhui can’t tell anyone where he’s going because it’s a secret? It’s so extremely suspicious that Junhui can’t believe he’s still considering going.

But… he _is_ considering going.

It’s not like Lord Kim can really do anything to him and get away with it; Father would have him skinned alive, and his entire family would be disgraced. Surely even the most crazed alpha wouldn’t risk that.

And, well. War.

In the end, it’s an easy decision. Junhui is a prince. There are certain duties that attach to that title. If there’s a chance he could prevent a war by hearing this guy out– Junhui has to take it.

“Okay,” he hears himself say. He swallows, heart rabbiting in his chest. The end of the song is rapidly approaching; he’ll have to say this quick while they still have the cover of dancing. “There’s a small passage at the back of the hall. It’ll lead you to a drawing room with a balcony attached– I’ll meet you out there.”

“Back of hall, passage, drawing room, balcony,” Lord Kim repeats. “When?”

Junhui thinks quickly. “There’s to be a performance within the hour,” he recalls. “Part of Lord Song’s entourage. We should be able to leave unnoticed in the commotion. You sneak away first; I’ll follow after.”

The music ends with the high trill of a flute. Without the cover of music, anything they say will be easily overheard. Junhui hopes his instructions had been clear; there’ll be no opportunity to clarify. Junhui and Lord Kim pull away and bow to one another, stiffly formal.

“Your Highness, it was a pleasure,” Lord Kim says, calm and collected once more, for the benefit of the court gossips that are always take bets on which alpha Junhui will choose.

“Likewise, my lord,” Junhui says, polite smile masking his frantic pulse. “Best of luck in the tournament tomorrow.”

Lord Kim bows. Junhui nods back, then turns and walks away, already itching to find out what this _message_ could be.

\---

Junhui doesn’t notice when Lord Kim disappears, but he edges to the back of the hall and waits for everyone’s attention to focus on the troupe’s (admittedly rather impressive, from what Junhui’s seen) act before quietly slipping away.

Lord Kim is already there, leaning against the stone banister, when Junhui comes out onto the balcony and closes both the curtains and the doors behind him.

“Your Highness,” Lord Kim greets lowly, straightening. “You came.”

“We don’t have much time. The message?”

Lord Kim pauses, licking his lips. “Your Highness,” he begins carefully. “I must ask you to hear me out in full. What I’m about to tell you may be… surprising.”

“Yes, of course.”

Lord Kim takes a deep breath. “I must apologise, Your Highness, for deceiving you. I am not the son of Lord Kim Myung-soo, or a son of the Kim family at all.”

Junhui frowns, fighting the panic quickly welling up in his chest. “Then who are you?”

Not-Lord-Kim stands tall, meets Junhui’s gaze with steely, steady certainty. “My name is Wonwoo, Crown Prince of the Eastern Kingdom.”

Junhui’s mouth literally falls open. “ _What_?” he demands, probably gaping like a fish. “What– why are you _here_?” Father might kill Prince Wonwoo if he’s found out here, alone with Junhui. Hell, the Eastern King might kill Prince Wonwoo himself for disgracing their family!

“It was the only way,” Prince Wonwoo says, desperation ringing clear in his voice. “What I said earlier about our harvest is true. The disease hit the entire kingdom’s grain. We don’t have enough stockpiled, there’s barely enough to keep our capital fed through winter. My people are going to starve.”

Junhui frowns. That’s terrible, but… “If you want a deal, you should’ve asked for it properly.” Instead of sneaking into the castle and meeting with _Junhui_ , of all people.

Prince Wonwoo shakes his head. “My father won’t hear of it. I begged him to strike a deal with your father; that’s why they’ve been having so many meetings as of late. I don’t know what terms were put on the table, but my father will accept none of them, refuses to bow to another king’s conditions. His pride is blinding him to what has to be done.”

“And you?” Junhui hears himself ask.

Prince Wonwoo’s eyes glitter. “I owe a duty to my people,” he says, voice low and clear against the low hum of music and chatter filtering through from the feast. “And I am not my father.”

Junhui feels his mouth go dry. The look on Prince Wonwoo’s face is one he’s seen on Jihoon’s, time and time again. It’s that fierce devotion to their kingdoms, that determination to do what’s right for their people at all costs to themselves. Junhui feels a shiver run down his spine, and he doesn’t think it’s from the cold.

“What are you asking for?” Junhui finally asks. “What do you want from me?”

Prince Wonwoo pauses. “We both benefit from a healthy alliance,” he says carefully. “We, of course, need your grain. In return, you’d have access to our military. I don’t need to tell you how important it is to show how strong your kingdom is, especially now the Northerners are looking to expand their influence.”

It’s true. Scouting parties from the North have been spotted all throughout the Southern kingdoms, heading southwest for the coast. Although they are valuable as trade partners, twenty years of peace mean that Junhui’s kingdom is lacking a powerful army. The Northeners may decide it’s easier to simply conquer their kingdom and take over control of their resources and trade routes instead of striking a deal. Having the might of the Eastern Kingdom behind them would certainly tip the scales in their favour.

“However,” Prince Wonwoo continues, “correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems your father is just as stubborn as mine.”

Junhui winces. “That’s… not an unfair assessment of his character,” he admits, because hey, Prince Wonwoo had been honest about his dad. “What do you propose we do about our fathers, then?”

“We have to force them to get along, essentially. And as far as I can tell, there’s one thing our fathers have in common, besides their pride– their love for their sons.”

“Wait,” says Junhui slowly. “Are you suggesting– political marriage?”

“Well,” says Prince Wonwoo. “Something a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid. I don’t know about yours, but my father will never accept me doing that of my own accord. In fact, he might refuse to negotiate with your kingdom out of spite.”

“It seems our fathers are more alike than they think,” Junhui says wryly, because he can already see the fit Father will definitely throw. “So?”

Prince Wonwoo is definitely looking a little apologetic. “The way I see it, the only way they’d accept it is if… we were in love. They wouldn’t fight the marriage then, or at least my father wouldn’t. I thought perhaps, we could…”

“We could deceive our family,” Junhui finishes, frowning. “Pretend to be in love and get married for our kingdoms.”

“…Yes.”

Junhui takes a deep breath. His mind is whirling, his pulse rapid. Part of him is shocked, terrified, wants to scream no and run away with all his might– but there’s also part of him that thinks, doing this could save lives. The lives of his people, surely, if they can stop the North from waging war, but also the lives of the Eastern Kingdom’s people. Tense though things are between them, the peasants don’t deserve to suffer. Can Junhui turn his back on so many, simply because he wants to marry for love?

“It is a difficult decision,” Prince Wonwoo says softly, interrupting Junhui’s thoughts. “I will give you time to make it. I’ll be here until the conclusion of the Alpha Games. If you decide to go through with it, you know where to find me.” Prince Wonwoo bows at Junhui again, then leaves Junhui to his thoughts on the cold balcony.

Junhui leans against the banister, head in hands, and thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks again, and doesn’t even notice how cold it is until he realises there’s snow falling all around him, catching in his hair and melting against his skin.

The first snow, Junhui thinks numbly. Winter is here.

**Author's Note:**

> hello all i severely underestimated the amount of plot that needed to be written so this isn't finished but please have my meagre offerings for the ficfest, the rest of it will (eventually) be added as i go
> 
> but yes hi, if u follow me on twt this plot may be familiar to you; if u don't, please feel free to follow lol (@mysterywoozi) but for your sake i will Spoil Nothing
> 
> anyway! hope you enjoyed, as always no proofreading we die like men
> 
> pls yell at me about anything you so desire in the comments or on twt i'm always delighted to receive any and all feedback bc i like attention


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